In the morning, she refused to move from the hospital bed.
By evening, she walked the red carpet with grace.

Your body is your canvas.
You never keep it safe,
you adorn it with scars
of lost loves, of lost dreams, of all your burnt-out stars.

Your lifestyle's your easel,
the only thing that keeps you high,
be it the days when you just can't stay still,
or those when you shatter and cry.

Your thoughts are acrylics,
shades of melancholy, maroon and black.
They characterize your essence,
all the hopes and falls you've stacked.

Your words are your brushes,
imagine how many stories they tell.
With every sigh you define
another line within your personal hell.

Do not lose your ambition, don't give up your health,
for you are not just an artist, you are art itself.

i. (kc) was the catalyst
the first to convince me that I could be loved
and the only one to make me believe I was capable of loving back
...for about two weeks.

ii. then (jt) arrived
popular
suave
and dorkily crushing on the one girl who couldn't return his affections.
but it wasn't until the first time I heard my name and 'beautiful' in the same sentence
that i realized there might be faultlines in my heart
shaking the love out of my body like lunch money from a scrawny kid's pockets.

iii. the first time i broke someone
the process was anything but (sl)ow
and it was then that i realized
i was getting too comfortable sleeping with regret, curled up like a black cat beside me.

iv. fortunately for me
(je) had 20/20 vision.
he saw through the mask, forced me to face myself until i couldn't help but punch my own reflection
and though his words almost convinced me that i could be saved
his empty stare reminded me that i wasn't worth the trouble.

v. looking back, the initials should've warned me
that he would be the (ss) to our sinking ship,
that we were fated to drown.
but he was coldstronghard as metal
and it took me a two years, one month, and one day
to learn that even silver can be tarnished.

vi. the name was fitting, i guess.
(jr) was finer than any greek hero
and were he a god, I would've named the planets after him too.
he was as reckless as the roman empire
scratching himself on the thorns of my soul just to find something worth saving.
was it because of compassion or guilt or shame
that I put Ariadne's string in his hands
so he could navigate his way out
and run for his life.
maybe it was because
I was so used to the echoes in my head
IendeditIendeditIendedit
that through the tears, I still managed to smile at the words
he ended it.

So lets start with rejection
And how it turns to obsession
the need and greed to find
a soul willing to stay
without needing to pray
they wont fade
so you know happiness won't be delayed
anymore and the time you've spent looking
wont eventually turn to a family booking
a sibling or sons funeral
hoping it doesnt turn communal
because the family doesnt want them all to know
you weren't strong enough
to stand up and show your pain inside
and they weren't there to find the signs
they wish you'd left behind

so lets end with acceptance
and how it turns to repentance
of the life you were given
and the fact you emptied your veins
to rid your body of all the names
of the people you thought you new
and knowing that no matter what you do
it just isn't enough for you to find a reason
to smile anymore, this is my closure
this is my end, this is a letter i wrote
to my friend, this is the start
of my design of how my end
will be defined